by Jester Joker
I think I have a minor concussion. And I seem to remember reading that, when you have a concussion, you shouldn't go to sleep, but I didn't care much for that advice last night.
Waking up this morning didn't alleviate that sting of defeat. They taught us to expect to lose. Particularly to lose our first fight, or one of our first ones. The important thing is to remember that everybody loses, but not everybody survives to tell about it, so we should be grateful every second we're still alive. Small consolation, I say.
My morning face is still on when the knock on the door gets both Will and I to the living room. I silently pray it's not the Hawaiian shirt guy again... I've got enough of a headache as it is.
It's not, fortunately. It's a twentysomething man, with shaggy hair and Goodwill-level clothes. His eyes look a little spaced out. I'm positive he's high. Let Will handle this one.
"Hey," he says, in an eerily calm manner. "I live upstairs from you. I didn't think anybody was down here, but I heard you yesterday."
"Yeah, we just moved in," Will says. He's not his usual wise-ass self, and for some reason that... saddens me. I guess he's never had to learn to put on a brave face.
"I figured I should introduce myself, since I never talked to the last people here," the new guy says. Strangely, he continues to stand there in the middle of our living room without introducing himself. He seems to be studying the room the way I did when I first walked in. Another costume? Probably not, I decide. He's likely just trying to remember where he is.
"No offense," I decide to break my silence. "But this isn't going to be a thing, is it? We're not going to have a parade of neighbors stop by one by one and have to endure awkward introductions, are we?"
He blinks at me for a second, then thinks about it. "I doubt it," he concludes. "The only person who came to my door was some fat guy named Hades." I give him an A for effort.
"So how will we learn your name, big guy?" Will asks. "Do we just randomly guess until we hit on it?"
"Oh, sorry," stoner seems to be jolted back to reality. "I'm Trevor. I lose my train of thought sometimes." Before we can respond, he suddenly looks right at me. "Are you a vet?"
The question was so out-of-the-blue I think my sophisticated response is, "Huh?"
Will starts laughing. "A vet? Pal, you couldn't be more wrong. You should've heard what she said she does to cats yesterday!"
Trevor shakes his head. "No, I mean, I just got back from the desert myself."
Oh! He's asking me if I'm in the military! "No," I say to him. The phone rings, and Will's answering it. "What made you ask?"
"It's just you kind of act like me a little, your posture and build, and all that." He must be talking about a previous incarnation of himself -- he's been slouching this whole time. Also, he's definitely stopped hitting the gym since returning. Still, my opinion of him instantly changes... a combat veteran! Right above us! There might be something he can teach us.
Will interrupts. "As much fun as we're having, we have to go." I give him my best quizzical look, since I know we have nothing scheduled. I wonder if he's just trying to get out of talking to this guy, but then he clarifies, "We have to go into the city and contact somebody." He puts the emphasis on "city" and "contact," and I get what he means. I nod to him.
"We're going to have to talk later, Trevor," I say to him. I want to be polite, because there might be more than one reason to actually talk to him later. Trevor nods and doesn't walk out so much as saunter out, and he drifts away without another word.
Will and I get to finally meet the local contact of our bosses. Supposedly, these are the guys who can make our jobs a lot easier, and we really, REALLY need that right about now. As we close our apartment door behind us, Will remarks, "Maybe next time, Trevor will remember to ask for our names, too."